


Radical (doesn't even cover it)

by nohomies (kameo_chan)



Category: The Goonies (1985)
Genre: Consensual Underage Sex, High Schoolers and their Libidos, Other, Sibling Incest, Threesome - F/M/M, Underage Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kameo_chan/pseuds/nohomies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey <i>hates</i> being the third wheel just about as much as Chunk hates broccoli.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radical (doesn't even cover it)

Astoria’s not so removed from the world as to really be podunk, but it’s still a small town, and a small _Oregon_ town at that. It sometimes seems like everyone knows everyone else, even if they’ve never shared more than a mean look or a pleasant greeting before in their lives. It’s even worse in the Goon Docks, because everyone really _does_ know everyone, and nothing is ever secret, or even manages to stay that way for very long without someone blundering onto the truth the way Chunk usually blunders his way through life.

That’s why; Brand tells them during dinner one night at the still-there Walsh home, he and Andy are planning on leaving for OSU after summer break. To get away from everyone and everything. He still doesn’t even have his licence yet, but that’s okay because Andy’s parents are almost as affluent as Troy’s and Andy’s dad had been both kind and rich enough to buy her a new car for her senior year. So Andy has her licence, and a car, and more power to her, says Stef when she’s not eyeing Mouth like she thinks he’s a piece of Tutty Fruity-flavored gum. 

And all of this should be fine; should be great. 

Except for the part where it makes Mikey feel like punching Brand in his stupid face, sorta. 

He gets that they’re old enough. They have pro – proportions? No, no, it’s prospects. Yeah, that’s the word. They have prospects of their own they want to fulfil. Like Andy wanting to study marine biology (which takes a lot more brains than Andy sometimes appears to have, but Mikey knows that behind the pretty face, Andy’s got a mind like a razor blade; dangerously sharp and incredibly neat when she puts it to use) and Brand wanting to study anthropology, of all things, even if he is planning on doing it on a football scholarship. 

So Mikey gets that they want to get out there and start a life for themselves, he really does. Heck, if it weren’t for the rest of the Goonies, he’d probably want to get as far away from Oregon as possible too. He’s lived in Astoria all his life, and even _he_ gets sick of the rain sometimes. 

It’s just… Mikey can’t even bring himself to say anything out loud, but he knows that the reason why he’s upset is that because when they leave, he’ll be alone. Okay, so not _alone_ alone, because he’s still got Mouth (and by extension, Stef, who claims that her parents don’t have the money to send her off to a fancy school and that she likes the community college in Newport better anyway) and Chunk and Data and even Sloth. But he’ll be alone in another way. In a just-Mikey-home-alone kind of way. 

Which is complete bullshit, when he thinks about it too hard. He doesn’t want to be just-Mikey-home-alone. He wants to be Brand-and-Andy-and-Mikey-all-together, like they have been since his fourteenth birthday when Andy’d pulled him into the hall closet with her and Brand and kissed him again, only with even more tongue than last time, if that was even possible. 

So most guys his age don’t go around sharing their girlfriend with their brother, and vice versa. Most guys aren’t Mikey, who gets to be one third of late night couch-sandwich make-out sessions. He’s also pretty sure that most other guys don’t crawl into bed for cuddles and slow, soft kisses with their occasionally jerk-tastic older brothers long after their parents gave gone to bed. But even if they don’t (and hell, even if they do), they’re still not Mikey, who always feels _special_ and _safe_ and most importantly, _cared for_ in a way nobody else except Brand and Andy seem to understand. 

Only, now they’re leaving for college, and they’re leaving Mikey behind in the dust like last year’s worn-out sneakers, and he doesn’t feel special, or safe or cared for, not anymore. Because they want to get away from everything and everyone, which suddenly includes Mikey too and makes an insistent kind of ache settle low down and deep in his chest. Mikey refuses to think of it as heartbreak. He’s not some dopey valley girl in a Madonna music video, so he settles on calling it betrayal instead. It sure beats calling it lovesickness, at any rate, which sounds like some kooky kind of pop band they’d screen on VH1. 

Mikey’s been getting real into Metallica lately, so sue him. 

So he spends the summer moping around, avoiding the two of them like they’re carrying elementary school-level cooties after that. He doesn’t let Andy pull him close anymore and when Brand gets him in headlocks he just hangs there like deadweight and doesn’t even try to fight him off. He visits Chunk and Sloth and watches as Sloth destroys yet another NES console with his overenthusiastic brute strength and Chunk’s dad blows his top until Mrs Cohen comes in with a bright smile and enough stacked Domino’s pizza boxes to feed a small army (or in their case at least, the Cohen family men). 

He helps Data test out new inventions and comes away minus part of his right eyebrow and plus one killer scolding from Mom, who tells him he looks like a hoodligum (“It’s hoodlum, Ma,” Brand says and both Mikey and Mom scowl at him until he turns back to the TV with his hands held up in placation) and makes him clean his room as punishment, which would’ve worked if Rosalita hadn’t come in and done it the day before. 

He goes out with Mouth and Stef, who’re more Mouth-and-Stef at this point, like they’re a single, contorted – is it contorted? Con-something, he’s sure of that much at least. He’ll have to ask Dad, since he’s not speaking to Brand – entity and watches them snark at one another till he feels like either puking his guts out or smooshing their faces together in the hope that maybe finally they’ll get the message and just suck face already. 

In the end though, all _that_ does is remind him that his own dating record’s down two people in one fell swoop, and he ends up excusing himself in favor of going home and conking out in front of the TV. Maybe if he’s really lucky, he’ll get struck by lightning on the way home. 

He isn’t though, and when he gets home unscathed, Brand and Andy are waiting for him in the living room with twin determined looks on their faces that Mikey just knows spell out trouble. 

“Spill the beans, wimp,” Brand tells him, folding his arms across his chest, which just keeps expanding and expanding over the years, like the list of words Mikey manages not to fumble over anymore. 

“You’ve been acting weird lately,” Andy says, concern clear in the way her voice hitches and her eyes go wide. “Mikey, what’s up with you?” 

Mikey stands there, feeling a lot like the world’s biggest goober, and gapes at them like a fish. “Nothing’s wrong,” he manages eventually, trying and failing to shoulder his way past Brand, who grabs him around the middle and flings him onto the sofa like he’s a feather-stuffed pillow. 

“Bullshit,” Brand says, straddling his hips and pinning him down, while Andy plops down next to him and slides one of those super-long legs of hers over his shin. “You’re lying, Mikey, and I wanna know why. So either you tell us what’s going on in that cuckoo little skull of yours, or I’m gonna tell everyone about that time you wet the bed when you thought the bogeyman was hiding underneath it.” 

Mikey, who’d been struggling vainly against Brand’s weight until that point, goes limp, glaring at his brother like he’s the Devil. Which, Brand being Brand, is altogether not beyond the realms of possibility, Mikey’s sure. “You wouldn’t,” he risks, feeling his chest constrict a little. 

“I wouldn’t try him if I were you, Mikey,” Andy warns. “He’s been in as much of a funk as you lately.” 

“Spill,” Brand says again, much more pointedly, and wow, his eyes are like laser beams directed at the middle of Mike’s head, only with way less awesome brain-frying powers and much more sulk.

Of course they are. Mikey sighs in defeat and relents, because he’s never been able to stand up to both of them, not together like this, like they’re a tag team WWF wrestling couple with their sights on a World Championship title-belt or something. 

“It’s no big deal, okay?” He shuffles around on the sofa, keeping his eyes trained on the upside down wiener of mom’s replica statuette so that he won’t have to look at either his brother or Andy. Mom still hasn’t noticed it, though Dad had given them a pointed look a few years back when he’d finally caught sight of it. “I’m just kind of bummed out about you guys leaving for college when I’m still just a high school freshman. It’s stupid. I know it is, so you guys don’t have to make this any more embarrassing by telling me something I already know, okay?” 

He’s still not looking at them, which is why he misses the look that passes between them, sort of fond and frustrated and relieved all at once. 

“You’re such a dork,” Brand tells him while Andy presses close to his side and wraps her arms around his neck. 

“Mikey, we’re gonna come back every holiday,” she says with a wide smile.

“Breaks, public holidays, the 4th of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas, you name it. Heck, we might even show up for birthdays,” Brand says, rubbing his chin contemplatively. 

“And by the time you’re done with high school, we’ll have our own place. All three of us, together,” Andy finishes, sucking the lobe of his ear between her teeth, making Mikey’s breath hitch the way it always does when she does crazy sexy stuff like that. 

“So quit your moping, you sprog,” Brand tells him with a grin; pressing his thigh between Mikey’s legs and effectively cutting off the much-needed flow of blood to his brain. “We’re not gonna leave you behind.”

“Yeah,” And tells him, slipping her hand beneath the waistband of his jeans to play with the thin line of his happy trail. “Think of it as reconnaissance. We’re gonna go scout ahead, while you bring up the rear. And then we can all rendezvous once you’ve had your eighteenth birthday.” The way she pronounces it, it sounds like wrong-day-view, and it goes straight to his dick, even though that’s the stupidest thing he’s ever heard of. 

“Mean it? Swear, like, pinky swear?” Mikey gasps out as Brand latches his mouth on the tender spot just at the base of his throat. 

Neither of them answer, but Mikey’s not gonna complain about it, at least not now anyway. Maybe later, once they’ve made him come his brains out and all of them are tangled up together on the sofa in a sweaty, satisfied ball of arms and legs. But for now, the way they’re pressed up against him, hot and hard and slick all at once, is answer enough. 

He doesn’t know what the future has in store for any of them, but as long as Brand and Andy never let him go, Mikey thinks he can handle it. So he sags back against the sofa cushions and lets them have their wicked, wonderful way with him.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote an incestuous OT3 fic for a movie that's almost thirty years old... What has my life come to?


End file.
